


opera

by ignatiuscrose



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Original Work, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Bullying, Fist Fights, Fluff, Gay Male Character, It's really mild violence and really mild fluff it's just two boys bein soft, M/M, OC, OCs - Freeform, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Violence, a little kiss, as a treat, it's in the poto universe soo, just trying to have a good time, not much to tag this one?, opera - Freeform, that feels so childish but it's true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignatiuscrose/pseuds/ignatiuscrose
Summary: Percy never really was one for the opera.This might have been influenced by the fact that he never had really gone to see one growing up, after growing up. Not multiple times, at least. Once as a treat, his family had gone to see some production of some story that he in no way could remember, and that was it. He’s heard the music of various operas many times, but never in a way where he could piece together the entire story.Percy wanted to support Henri, and might as well do that by seeing an opera.
Relationships: Percival Farley/Henri Archambeault, Percy Farley/Henri Archambeault, Percy/Henri
Kudos: 1





	opera

Percy never really was one for the opera.

This might have been influenced by the fact that he never had really gone to see one growing up, after growing up. Not multiple times, at least. Once as a treat, his family had gone to see some production of some story that he in no way could remember, and that was it. He’s heard the music of various operas many times, but never in a way where he could piece together the entire story.

So, perhaps this is why he was so enamored with the display before him, bright and colorful, movement of all sorts from simple walking to grand leaps from ballerinas. What he was lost in most, though, was the  _ music _ . The story it told! The ever-shifting moods, the key changes, solos and duets, the way the voices mingled with the beautiful warm tones of the pit. He might have even shed a tear at some point, or his lips tugged at the smallest smile, or his hands attempted to conduct the piece on their own, while Percy was leaning completely forward in his seat, eyes glued to the magnificent work before him.

It was a whole new experience.

He has been through pre-constructed song cycles, patchwork season cycles, emotional solos or ensembles, and yet—when you put so much time, work, passion into a full-length story such as this? With the added, physical human emotion that you could actually  _ see _ , almost even grab if you really tried? Percy put his heart and soul into playing, but he knew he was not quite here, not yet!

But it was not for the music, that he originally came. No, he came for a certain person; a special someone. He originally planned to go and try to seek Henri out, wander without permission, but it was fear when his eyes locked on a familiar figure he just so  _ loathed _ .

Marc stood, his woman dangling off his arm as he was busy talking with some other men, thankfully, or hopefully, unaware of Percy’s presence. This gave him time to flee the Palais Garnier, wait outside and find another way in as he waited, pacing around and trying his best to seem unsuspicious.

He should have been more careful though, because apparently he must have been too preoccupied with trying to pass as waiting for someone, because the sound of Marc’s voice calling out “Percy!” and the rough grab of his shoulder and turn to face the largest bane of his existence nearly caused his throat to both scream and shut simultaneously. Instead, his jaw set. Tightly.

“What are you doing here?” His smile was malicious, his eyes and three other pairs belonging to two friends and his girl, studying him. Before Percy could get out an excuse, Marc continued.

“Aren’t you a little lowbrow for such a place? Or are you here coincidentally passing by?” It was almost as if Marc were challenging him.

“I had extra money spare, so I decided to indulge myself tonight,” Percy’s timid voice spoke up after a rough, stuttering start. An amused huff escaped Marc, his lips twisting into something of an unimpressed, distasteful fusion of a smirk and a scowl as he nodded, like he did not believe Percy or something else that just irked him. He, surprisingly gently, pushed his fiancé off of his arm and back towards the other men as he stepped up to Percy, staring at him down his nose as he stood straight to his full height.

It took a second before Percy registered the pain and that Marc’s fist had come up and got him right in the jaw, stumbling back as he tried to nurse his face. He hadn’t even done a single thing to provoke him!

Adrenaline that was starting to pump, mixed with an anxiety deep in his chest, aided in his attempt to deflect the second blow, instead getting him painfully in the forearm. That was likely going to bruise. Curse soft, sensitive skin.

Marc’s punch did, however, send Percy to the ground, allowing his attacker to kneel over him and attempt another strike. Percy threw his arms up, pain searing through his back from his certainly graceless fall, to block the not one, but several hits Marc released onto him.

Percy finally found the idea to yell for help, struggling to try and push Marc off of him who just would not give up. Percy found himself trying to return the assault, managing to get him in the abdomen, but not without another injury to himself. He managed to see past Marc, that his posse was simply snickering at the display. At him.

When Percy began yelling, a group began to form. When Percy began yelling, Marc switched their places, shoving Percy above him and yelling for help himself. When Percy began yelling, Marc played the victim.

Percy was glad to be lifted off of Marc, stumbling away and holding his now busted lip. He did not bother with the shouting after him as he began walking away. He would find another way in, around the people. And when he was in, hiding his face, he immediately sought out Henri.

Henri planned to greet him joyfully, until he saw the state of the other man; violently disheveled, dirt on his jacket, and blood on his face.

“Dear God, Percy, what happened?” He said, rushing over and gently taking his arm to lead him elsewhere, down a hall to somewhere more private where he could check Percy’s wounds, clean them as best he could.

Percy only shook his head, sighing. “Nothing. Just—” Another shake, light brown hair, tousled hair swaying.

“It sure  _ looks _ like nothing,” Henri eyed him suspiciously, lips pursed as he ushered him into a room. Percy let himself fall back into the chair Henri tried to ease him onto. Percy did not think Marc had done that bad of a job, but perhaps the quickly fleeting adrenaline had something to do with it as he became  _ very _ aware of the soreness really starting to set in.

His head tilted back, and rolled around as he felt his jacket being removed, heard it being shaken out and tossed nearby. He felt a calloused, yet gentle hand lift his face up to inspect the damage, feeling the heat of a candle a short distance from his face, hearing Henri tut. Percy was not actually sure when he closed his eyes. Perhaps when he sat down, but even then he was not so certain.

The heat went away, as did the hand, and he heard Henri leave the room. It was quite a bit before he returned.

Percy finally opened his eyes, seeing that Henri brought in rags and a small basin of water. Setting it on the desk next to Percy, a rag was dipped and wrung, then brought over to Percy. Henri moved his hair away from his face, sticking from sweat, as he gently ran the cloth over his forehead, then down the right side of his face. It was cool, and it felt so,  _ so _ nice.

He leaned into Henri’s hand that came to tilt his face up, more towards the candlelight so Henri could see. Percy took in his features, his expression. It was not often he got to see him so close, so intimately close. And especially not ever after being brutally assaulted by Marc. It would have been much nicer without that last fact.

A small inhale, Percy’s jaw clenched at the touch of the folded-once-over rag to his lips. He thought about the ensemble. Would he be able to return right away? His face might bruise—no, definitely would bruise overnight in some way. Percy thought about having to answer questions, questions he could not truthfully answer. He’d have to stay home and heal. For the sake of his dignity that was not so strong, and perhaps selfishly not wanting to deal with the others. Not wanting to face Marc the day after he went off on Percy.

“I do hope you’ll tell me what happened,” Henri said softly after humming, wiping at Percy’s nose, pausing with an apology when Percy flinched.

“Some lunatic,” Percy replied simply, as if it were truly just some lunatic. Well, it was, in a way. No sane man should ever lash out at anyone like that, not when they’ve done nothing wrong.

“I hope they get him, then,” Henri took Percy’s face in both hands, staring at him, searching his eyes with a sad gaze. He then nodded.

“I’m certainly overjoyed that you’re alright—you know, besides your injuries.” Henri cleaned up Percy’s face a little bit more before setting the rag down, and unbuttoning Percy’s vest. Then his shirt.

Percy wanted to say he was fine, but he also really did not mind the attention he was receiving. It was nice. It was foreign, strange. But nice.

He watched Henri’s face as Henri studied his abdomen for any injuries. Henri’s hand did come up, brushing lightly over skin near the center of his chest. Percy huffed and tried to move back when he pressed down on it, eyes blowing wide briefly, about to ask why he would do such a thing if it was clear it might have been an injury.

“Just making sure,” Henri smiled sheepishly, buttoning his shirt and vest back up. Percy was sort of hoping he would clean up his chest, but it was fine.

“...Thank you,” Percy said after a moment, his eyes having drifted to a spot past Henri until he spoke. His eyes looked up a Henri, brows quirked. Percy was the saddest human Henri had ever laid eyes on.

“You’re welcome,” Henri leaned in, placing a soft, mindful kiss to Percy’s damaged lips, a little off-center so he could avoid hurting Percy.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hi!! we got some boys, good ol' ocs just doing oc things  
> I actually finally got to watch poto, the 25th when it was streaming for its birthday and I have a lot of feelings about it. Nonetheless, we've got my boy Percy who is an British musician, he's a percussionist, and Henri is a stagehand at The Opera© Next time hopefully there'll actually be something, idk, poto related besides the yknow opera house
> 
> Henri belongs Virgil, here's their tumblr: https://faunaproductions.tumblr.com/ (idk how i formatted it last time lol)
> 
> My tumblr (very. Incredibly into Tanz der Vampire rn): https://ignatiusteto.tumblr.com/


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